


Cheap Thrills

by allofthefandoms



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Closeted Character, Hooking up, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8119060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: If there was one thing about Vegas that Kent loved it was the anonymity. Unless he was wearing his Aces gear, he was almost never recognized, especially in the bars he frequented.
He sharpens his kohl pencil, closing his eye and pressing a thick line to the top of his lash line. Smudging it out into a smokey wing, he lines his waterline and then does his other eye before applying mascara Then comes a little bit of golden highlighter over his cheekbones and a deep red lip stain. He had already applied his favorite glittery nail polish so he washes his hands and gives himself a critical once over in his full length mirror.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bless N for the update with Tater scruffing Kent like a cat because it finally gave me the right motivation to get this out of my WIP folder and all finished.
> 
> Also, because I can never seem to write porn without at least a little bit of feelings, there is a brief little mention of homophobia and living in the closet.

If there was one thing about Vegas that Kent loved it was the anonymity. Unless he was wearing his Aces gear, he was almost never recognized, especially in the bars he frequented.

He sharpens his kohl pencil, closing his eye and pressing a thick line to the top of his lash line. Smudging it out into a smokey wing, he lines his waterline and then does his other eye before applying mascara Then comes a little bit of golden highlighter over his cheekbones and a deep red lip stain. He had already applied his favorite glittery nail polish so he washes his hands and gives himself a critical once over in his full length mirror.

The custom leather pants had been worth the cost, he decides, relishing the way they stretched over the swell of his ass. It was no Crosby ass, but even the flattest of hockey asses were a thing of beauty and a good pair of pants could make all the difference. His silk shirt is equally black, setting off the paleness of his skin and the sharpness of his blue eyes. A careful mussing with a fingerful of pomade and the look is complete.

. .

He smiles when he sees everyone looking at he steps out of his black corvette.

Handing the keys to the valet, he nods to the bouncer as he slips inside, avoiding the line. They know him here, and they know his money. The throb of the base and the smell of sweat and cologne settles right under his skin in a way that even the ice can’t. He lets his eyes run over the dance floor, taking in the press of men grinding up against other men, in various states of glitter clad undress. It’s a rare Friday night off with no practice the next day and he fully intends to find someone big and strong to fuck him hard enough that he aches in the morning.

He nods to Alex behind the bar, and the man slides over Kent’s usual order a few moments later. The raspberry Margarita burns with its extra shot of vodka but he drinks half of it in two long slugs as he scans the crowd.

“Funny seeing little Parse in a place like this.” Fear crawls down Kent’s back and he looks up sharply only to find himself face to face with Alexei Mashkov. He’s dressed in torn jeans and a shirt that’s mostly unbuttoned, revealing a dusting of chest hair and a heavy pendant.

“I could say the same to you,” Kent says sharply, trying to hide his shock.

“Not looking for fight,” he placate, hands up. Kent’s treacherous hind brain notes how big they are and wonders what it would be like having them on his hips.

“Since when do people like you come to gay bars?”

“Since when does gay person come to gay bar?” Alexei looks adorably confused, mouthing Kent’s words silently as he tries to figure out if there was a second meaning hidden behind the English.

“Oh…” Kent says kind of dumbly. All he can really process is that Alexei is exactly his type and is somehow available. “You're gay?”

“Can’t tell.”

“Look, what do I say, oh yeah I saw him in a gay bar and by the way no I’m not gay even though I was in the same bar? Yeah, don’t worry. We’re both in the same boat.”

“Dance?” Kent lights up, downing the rest of his drink. No one is safer to pick up than another gay athlete and Alexei really is exactly Kent’s type. Alexei's grin grows as Kent takes his hand.

Kent feels the base pounding through Alexei’s chest as they slip into the press of the crowd. Eyes slip over them appreciatively and it makes him grin, smile all teeth. It’s a relief, in an odd way, to be appreciated for something besides hockey, even if it’s just the way his ass fills out his pants.

Alexei puts his hands on the insides of Kent’s thighs, low enough that it’s not sexual, but they are just as big as Kent had thought and the casual way Alexei pulls his legs a little wider so they slot together makes him half hard. It’s the first time all night he curses the tightness of his pants because they hide absolutely nothing. Alexei laughs low in Kent’s ear and he shudders.

“Little Kenny want big man to handle him?” The gasp that escapes him would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the way it made Alexei’s hand clench on his thighs.

“Come to hotel.” Kent can only push back against him, already wordless and squirming.

. .

The anticipation keeps Kent hard the whole taxi ride there.

Alexei keeps a civil distance but he keeps sending Kent these smoldering little glances that go right to Kent’s dick. The driver chatters aimlessly, and Kent hums and nods in what he thinks are the right places until they pull up.

Having to maintain a respectable distance is nearly impossible. The two of them together are noticeable enough that it’s a bad idea for Kent to be crawling all over him until they are in private, but he can’t help but nudge close every once in a while, leaning against him fully in the elevator. Alexei gives him a molasses slow smile, and Kent can’t hold his gaze.

Alexei briskly closes the curtains and locks the door when they arrive, carefully checking that there are no clear sidelines for a camera. Something twists in Kent’s stomach as he watches. If he got caught, it would be a media shit show, but for Alexei…Kent shakes the thought loose from his mind. They were being careful, and no one really gave a fuck about hockey here. It wasn’t Boston.

When he finally turns away from the window, the heat is back in his eyes. Kent’s mouth waters as Alexei stalks towards him, grabbing him by the arm and marching him to the bed. He makes a show of resisting just to feel the bite of Alexei’s broad fingers into the meat of his arm.

“Pretty little Kenny.” Kent lets himself go slack in Alexei’s grip as they undress, the rush of sex making things feel a little fuzzy around the edges in the best way. He lets out a little gasp of surprise when he’s thrown on the bed. He’s totally naked, cock full against his stomach, and Alexei is standing over him, the full length of his thick, muscular frame on display. It makes Kent feel deliciously small. Alexei knee crawls over him, eyes dark as he drinks Kent in. His cock is thick and uncut and Kent moves to try to get his mouth on it, only to be pushed back down onto the bed.

“Still,” Alexei instructs and Kent moans even as his body freezes in place. Alexei is taking his sweet time and it makes his breath race. He finally lowers himself onto Kent’s thighs, rolling so their cock rub together. It’s the sort of sinuous movement of someone in total control, and Kent is torn between wanting to fuck up that careful restraint and just surrendering himself to it.

Alexei seems content to just rock, the friction just on the right side of too rough without any lube, but every hitch and drag of their skin together makes Kent whine low in the back of his throat. 

“We won,” Kent pants. “That means I get what I want.”

“And what does little Kenny want?”

“I want to get my mouth on that beautiful dick and then I want you to use it to fuck me into the floor.”

“Is good plan.” That slow, sly smile is back and it makes Kent's stomach flip and roll, and the broad palm on his chest as Alexei shifts so Kent can get his mouth on his dick makes him break out in goosebumps. He's manhandled upright and Alexei feeds him his dick and even though he doesn't rock, Kent doesn't feel like he has any control at all. It makes his cock leak all over his stomach. Alexei notices and gives a low laugh.

“They say you born for hockey. Not right. Born for this. Born for my dick.” Kent can only moan, relishing the way his jaw has stated to burn at the thickness. He lets out another gasp when Alexei yanks his hair, pulling him off his dick with a pop. Kent is drooling, a strip connecting his lips to the head of Alexei's cock, and they both give an appreciative sigh at the view.

When Alexei flips Kent over, he moans. The casual display of strength is just so hot, and exactly the sort of thing Kent loves. He knows he's small, even outside of hockey, and while he may be quick and clever and fast, but that can only do so much in the face of the sort of sheer brute force someone like Alexei can bring to bear.

“Open,” Alexei orders, tossing Kent a few packets of lube from the side table. Kent obeys with trembling fingers. He squirts too much out at first and it makes the first finger a sticky slippery mess. The sound is absolutely vulgar, and Kent has to run through a decade of Stanley Cup champions to keep himself from coming then and there.

“I'm ready, go,” Kent pants when he's had all the stretching he can stand. He knows he'll feel it tomorrow, but there is no practice, no reason for him to not relish the burn. There is some muttered Russian cursing as Alexei gets a condom on, but then there is the low burning slide and Kent's back bows it feels so good.

From there on, not much gets said besides pants and whines. Kent feels so full it feels like his spine is melting with every stroke. Alexei presses close, thrusts short and sharp, and the weight of him feels inescapable in the best way. Kent presses up to feel it, the slick hot press of sweaty skin setting off ever nerve in his body.

His orgasm hits like a snapped rubber band, his whole body clenching and releasing in an endless wave. He distantly hears a string of muttered Russian curses and then Alexei stills above him, every muscle tight and trembling before he slumps to the side of the bed.

Kent hisses when he pulls out, ass clenching around nothing with a painful spasm. The deep seated ache will linger, and Kent is more than happy to sprawl and enjoy it as Alexei stands to throw away the condom and empty lube packets.

“Pretty Kenny,” Alexei coos when he returns, taking in the sight of Kent sprawled sweaty and come streaked on the bed. Kent blushes, looking away. After everything that has happened that night, its odd that this is what embarrasses him.

Alexei continues to be tender with him as they clean up. The washcloth is perfectly warm and not too wet, and Alexei takes care to unfold Kent's clothes from the heap they had been dumped in when they had arrived. It confuses Kent, and he says as much.

“Keep same secret,” Alexei replies with a little shrug. “Rival, sure, but maybe friend too? Easier not being alone.”

“It must be harder for you than me,” Kent points out. “Who I love isn't illegal where I'm from.”

“Providence is home, not Russia. Parents come soon, working on citizenship. Not want to hide. Safer here.”

“You're a braver man than me.”

“You'll be brave one day. Brave today.” Kent gives a little shrug. Alexei presses a kiss to the top of his head and passes him his clothes.

“Next time I win, my choice what we do. Pin you up against wall, take you that way.” Kent's eyes dilated as he stepped into Alexei's space.

“You're on.”


End file.
